Captain’s Log: Day 3212.
We found it. We finally found The Mission. We’ll be climbing aboard soon, doing our best to glean what we can from the surveillance and from the wreckage. But, we know it’s alive.
It’s still here.
Captain’s Log: Day 3214.
Yesterday was skipped. That’s not an error. That was because yesterday passed too quickly. When we boarded the vessel, we found no crew members. Signs of life from what appears to be ages ago. Though there was no signs of struggle. It seems like they just… vanished.
However, that’s not of consequence.
We aren’t here for them.
We’re here for The Mission.
And we found him.
We found The Mission alive, aboard the ship. Luckily, the submersible vehicle had gone topside somehow. Made it a whole hell of a lot easier to board.
The tapes weren’t good.
For some reason, the surveillance cameras kept cutting out. Over and over again. I think they’ve been tampered with. Probably by whoever wrecked the damn vessel in the first place. There’s almost no doubt that this was sabotage. The videos are clipped too perfectly.
I’ve got Seethe on it now, working to see if he can restore it. There isn’t much hope in that department, but he’ll keep trying. In the meantime, Dr. Tins is going to assess The Mission, see if it can still function like it was meant to. The thing seems pretty damaged, but that’s just my opinion. I’m no doctor though, so, what do I know about super creature experiments?
I’ll update again tomorrow.
Captain’s Log: Day 3215.
Dr. Tins says the thing needs a blood transfusion. When the vessel became unstable, or, perhaps, sometime in the aftermath of the sabotage, The Mission was wounded. Not severely, but enough that he needs a transfusion. If he gets it, he’ll be fine.
I’m still not a doctor, but I’ve been in the field before. More times than I’d care to admit, I’ve seen things with wounds like The Mission’s. People with wounds like that don’t usually bounce back.
If the Doctor says a blood transfusion is all he needs…
Then that’s what he’ll get.
Apparently, I’m the only one on this vessel with the right blood type. Go figure. The transfusion will take place immediately after I’ve saved this log. Hopefully, there’ll be some goods new to report for tomorrow.
Captain’s Log: Day 3216.
Apparently, it worked. The Mission seems to be responsive now, according to the doctor. I can’t verify that myself, as I haven’t seen The Mission since we moved him into the infirmary the first day. But, I trust the doctor’s word more than my own imaginings.
After all, what can something like that be worth in a situation like this?
Doc says he’ll get back to me with a full report tonight.
As far as everything else goes, it seems that there isn’t much that can be salvaged. The uncharted research vessel appears to have been unlucky enough to have a very experienced saboteur aboard. The video clips are still missing, and the equipment on board is completely fried. It makes me glad that things are going well with The Mission’s recovery, or else this traverse would’ve been a total and complete loss.
I’d like for those clips to be restored. I can’t fill in the blanks myself—there’s an endless amount of possibilities. Too much to consider when thinking about what could’ve happened to the old crew.
I want to know.
What happened to them?
Where did they go?
Why did the abandon The Mission?
Captain’s Log: Day 3217.
Something is… strange.
Seethe found some clips, but…
They don’t make sense.
They don’t fit anywhere into the feeds.
It’s like someone inserted film footage into the feeds during certain times. All of the footage is normal, except those pieces that were recovered. They jerk and are messy. Full of blood. Carnage. According to those strange clips…
The crew was slaughtered.
It doesn’t make sense.
We haven’t seen any bodies. There was no signs of struggle when we first boarded. And there was most certainly no blood. A carnage—like the found clips show—would’ve left a trace.
Definitely would’ve left a trace.
No one gets cleaved in half by a minotaur and leaves not a trace of it behind.
Besides, it just doesn’t make sense.
We found the vessel on Nolbian—it’s where we are currently, as I’m speaking. It’s impossible for a minotaur to have appeared on the ship. Minotaurs aren’t native to this planet. And the data claims the clip was captured during the time the vessel was on Nolbian.
I don’t know.
I’m not sure what to say.
The other clips. They’re… worse than that one. Nightmares sprung to life. Things that you find in people’s worst imaginings, all brought to life, and all unleashed on the crew. Hell, if you ask me.
There’s no evidence of it actually happening. No evidence that any of the clips are real, though they are, in fact, of the old crew.
It gives me a sinking feeling.
I don’t like not knowing.
Additionally, Dr. Tins hasn’t come out of the infirmary all day. He sends brief snippets of affirmation—that things are going well, he’s just busy—and that’s it.
… I don’t like it.
Since the transfusion, I’ve felt groggy. Tired. Exhausted. That’s normal immediately following a major loss of blood, I get that, but this is… this is something I’ve never experienced before.
I need to sleep.
I need rest.
Captain’s Log: Day 3218.
It’s worse today.
I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. Can barely speak properly. All my words are slurring together. If it weren’t for the fact that there isn’t any alcohol aboard either of the vessels, I’m sure my crew would think I was drunk.
I’m so… sluggish.
Like I’m lost in a fog.
Dr. Tins still hasn’t emerged from the infirmary, and Seethe keeps finding those clips. They stitch together oddly, as if they’re peeling back a layer of reality to reveal horror underneath. As if that vessel were a circle of hell, and the crew, unknowingly, boarded onto it.
It makes no sense.
And I’m far too tired to figure it out.
I’m going to sleep again. Hopefully, when I wake, I’ll feel better.
Captain’s Log: Day 3220.
Seethe is gone.
Nobody knows where he went. Our feeds were damaged, and my first mate says he didn’t hear anything suspicious.
The saboteur must be back.
And, unfortunately, I’m still extremely groggy. More so than the last time I was awake, I think.
What is this fog? Why can’t I stay awake?
Must I really sleep for days at a time?
I’m starting to panic.
Additionally, I’ve tried speaking to Dr. Tins about it, and he keeps claiming it’s in my head. That he’s far too busy with The Mission to take a look at me. That I ought to take some antibiotics and rest up, like my body demands. That it’ll go away if I keep sleeping and change my outlook. Imagine myself better, he keeps telling me.
That doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t feel like a real answer.
I gave my blood.
I shouldn’t be sick.
Captain’s Log: Day 3223.
I’ve slept too long.
When I woke, no one was here. I’ve no idea where anyone has gone.
My ship is completely empty of everyone.
Tins assures me he’s been in the infirmary for days. That he hasn’t seen anyone since my transfusion.
I don’t believe him.
Where is my crew?
There’s no where for them to run.
Except the other vessel…
I have to go.
There’s a strange noise coming. It’s been growing louder by the moment. I’m sure you can hear it. I’ll leave the microphone running for a bit to see if you can catch the sound. I believe it originated at the infirmary.
It’s on the move.
I shouldn’t have agreed to this. Not without knowing what it is—why they created it. I shouldn’t have agreed to retrieve The Mission without knowing it’s nature.
I’m a fool.
A fool about to board an abandoned, haunted, hell-vessel. One with no name, and no crew, and no way of escape.
I’ll do my best, but I know:
I, too, will disappear.
I’m sure now that Dr. Tins is gone. That my crew is gone. That whatever came for them is coming for me.
The Mission, the saboteur…
I don’t stand a chance.
I can only hope the saboteur doesn’t damage my logs. I’ll do what I can to make the files indestructible for the next lost soul that stumbles across this circle. For you, whoever the listener is.
If you find these, do yourself a favor.
Abandon The Mission.
Leave before it’s too late.
Before hell swallows you, too.
I have to go now. Take my own advice, though I know it won’t lead me anywhere.
Not anywhere good, anyway.
It’s much too late for me.
I’ve already boarded. Besides: